


The Everlasting Present

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Fantasy, Future, Horror, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Orgy, Romance, Suspense, Threesome, Unsafe Sex, Vampires, What-If, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-03
Updated: 2009-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Many years post-513, Brian and Justin return to Britin and recall the strange events which have kept them together.“I don’t think of the past. The only thing that matters isthe everlasting present.” W. Somerset Maugham





	1. Prologue: Back at Britin

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes:

This is my first fic and reviews are sincerely appreciated!

* * *

PROLOGUE

Britin

Many, many years after 513… 

“I love this room, but maybe we should change the furniture and stuff.” Justin said, smiling widely around the room Brian had proposed to him in. They hadn’t been home and in this room together for decades. Britin had been carefully maintained and over the years, and Brian had bought several nearby houses when they came on the market to guarantee that their home would remain secluded. He had been horrified that urban sprawl would put a mini-mall down the street.  Regardless where they traveled – alone or together – their various souvenirs and keepsakes had all been sent here and inevitably placed around the house by the groundskeeper and his partner. Although Brian and Justin had seldom been at Britin, it had always been the only place referred to as “home”. 

“Why’s that, Sunshine?” Brian asked with a lifted brow, his face was carefully neutral, but he was enjoying Justin’s smile. There had been so little joy between them in recent years, and almost no levity. This was the first sunny smile he’d seen in a long time.

Justin laughed in response to the misnomer; Sunshine couldn’t be more wrong for someone like him now. “I wish the staff had left it alone.  The way it was, before we moved to Europe.  Actually, I really wish we had just left the drop cloth by the fireplace like it was the first time I was here. It was perfect that day: empty except for us. Now there’s… stuff everywhere.” He gestured to the now antique furniture and various items – all treasured reminders of happier times together, friends and beloved family –all gone now – with a frown. “I wonder where that thing is anyway.”

“What thing? You want the _drop cloth?_   I am sure the movers or the cleaning service got rid of it a _very_ long time ago. What the fuck would you do with it? Frame it? _Cuddle_ it?”

Justin laughed again at the word ‘cuddle’. There were few words treated with more humorous disdain than ‘cuddle’ between them. Laughing at old jokes with Brian made him feel better than he had in years.

“No, just… I would have wanted to keep it. We kept all this stuff here and most of its depressing now . Everything here represents something lost. Someone gone. The drop cloth was the start of something.” He gestured vaguely to the pictures and souvenirs that covered almost every surface in the room.

His eyes wandered thoughtfully to old family pictures smiling down on the spot they had celebrated their engagement and had spent so many happy hours. When he looked at framed sketch of Lindsay with a chubby baby Gus his face became sad. He sighed sadly and looked very swiftly away from it to take in the items on the shelves and walls around the room.  The other pictures showed a mostly happy, growing, _aging_ family – all the holidays, reunions, graduations and one particularly important wedding they had missed. His face and Brian’s were absent from the more recent pictures. They hadn’t been at any family gathering in decades.

Although the objects had arrived to Britin over many years, whoever had arranged them had carefully organized them by place of origin. The family pictures, regardless of the nature of the subject’s relation to them, were together on the mantle and the walls flanking the fireplace. Two of Justin’s paintings were hung here but none of the other artists’ whose work they had collected were in this room. He realized immediately that the shelf he walked to first must be a Venetian shelf: a large, smoky Murano vase Justin had given his mother sat between two mismatched masks they had worn during Carnival there.  Justin smiled sadly, touching the vase gently. His mom had loved it. When she died he had called Molly and persuaded her that, no matter how angry everyone was at him for not being there, he deserved something to remember his mom by. Months later, he received the vase and a harshly angry note.

“Justin?” Brian asked, very coldly, from where he stood, very still, by the fireplace. “If this ‘stuff’ depresses you we can move it. I’ll put it somewhere else. Ship it somewhere else.” 

Justin looked over at Brian and realized he had said the wrong thing. They had been apart too long and there was so much treacherous subjects between them. The bond between them had changed – a lot. Justin couldn’t easily sense Brian’s feelings or thoughts anymore and Brian was no longer instinctively aware of Justin’s.

Justin didn’t know exactly what he had said that triggered Brian’s change of tone – hadn’t they just been smiling at each other? Hadn’t they just been happy to find each other? Grieving, yes, but relieved to be together? Brian looked defensive and Justin realized it wasn’t just random luck or the caretakers’ tastes that had only very personal things in this specific room. They had spent so much time apart over the past few years, and Justin knew Brian must have come back again last May. They were both too late to help, and they didn’t see each other, but there was no way Brian hadn’t come to Britin while in Pittsburgh. Justin had come as soon as he had heard, but he had been in Singapore. He had found out from someone else, and by the time he got to Pittsburgh he couldn’t even find Brian – which meant Brian was purposefully avoiding him.  He knew Brian had been relatively close, in New York, but he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. They had planned for a long illness, Gus was being cared for so well, and then he has a stupid accident. 

It had eaten Justin’s heart for months; it was why he finally got over their old arguments and really sought Brian out, asking for help from old friends. With as bad as Justin had felt, Brian must feel worse, and that spurred Justin to find his old lover and comfort him whether he wanted comfort or not. Foolish thought, because Brian had actually welcomed his comfort, but not his need to talk.  They never really discussed it, but what could they ever say? They both knew how awful the other felt.  

Justin sighed heavily. Of course Brian had done this – put all their memories together. He wondered if he was getting stupid in his old age – it was too obvious and he hadn’t seen it.

“That’s _not_ what I meant. It’s just…I – I wish I had been here with you. That we hadn’t fought and I hadn’t left you. Maybe we would have been here, at Britin. We could have found some way to bring him here before he … fell. We could have told him the truth and let him choose. And I wish we had come up with some lie – years ago. Something we could have said to be able to stay and be a part of everything that we lost. And… all this stuff… all our memories of us not being here. I miss them, I miss that time, and I miss _our_ son. This room was _our_ room; we had so many happy memories here. And now, everything, everyone is gone. Well, except us.  ”

Brian nodded, his mouth looking very tight and his eyes held the exhausting sorrow that Justin had found in them when they had reunited, after Gus died. Brian reached up and took down a large framed photo of ‘the family’. It was from the last Christmas Brian and Justin attended and he could see they shouldn’t really have gone. The picture showed the truth none of the family had seen:  the imbalance between their appearance and supposed age. At the time, they had easily sidestepped with shrugs and recommendations of imported face creams, spas, diets and plastic surgeons. He remembered that they had thought it so funny at the time. 

He remembered…

++++++++++

_It was the 2 days before Christmas and Gus would be flying in from San Francisco early on Christmas Eve.  They had skipped the pre-Christmas get-togethers, claiming jetlag from a long flight from Prague, and spent the day at Britin. That night, they went out for a ‘drink’ and quickly selected two young men to join them at the loft. After they were done, their ‘drinks’ for the evening long since sent home in cabs, the two had still been tangled together in bed.  Brian had been smiling about how one of the men they had picked up had commented that he thought he recognized Justin from college. Justin had deadpanned, “I’m too old for college. I’m turning 40 this year”. Everyone, especially Brian, had laughed at that._ _Once alone they made various suggestions about what they were going to say this time to explain their unchanging faces to the family. It had been almost 5 years since everyone had gathered together. Gus had been off to college, to three different schools in three different states for the past few years; Mel and Lindsay had moved from Toronto to Vancouver after Gus left and hadn’t been able to visit in years; Ted had accepted a cushy job in Colorado almost 7 years ago, he and Blaine lived near Aspen; Emmett had met a flight attendant on vacation to Hawaii and stayed there with him – he’d been improving his tan for almost a decade. Only Michael, Ben, Debbie and Carl were still in the Pitts, but now, after several failed attempts at a ‘family’ reunion, everyone was going to be together for Christmas. Everyone was going to have aged except them._ _Brian had rolled away from Justin sat up and lit a cigarette. He smoked while considering how well orchestrated the evening had been. The men they had brought home had both had attractively dark skin; that was why Brian had wanted them. He knew the contrast of Justin’s skin against theirs would be particularly hot. Justin had looked glowingly white– like a marble statue of a sex god brought to life – moving between them. Brian looking appraisingly at his reclining lover and decided that he was even more beautiful than he had been in his youth, but maybe it was unfair to compare a younger Justin with the beloved man lying peacefully next to him.  Justin, eyes still closed, accused him of being a Bogart and grabbed the cigarette unerringly without looking. They had both laughed when Brian pointed out that Justin still looked like he should have his ID checked before being given a cigarette, even if he was supposed to be nearing 40. Justin pointed out that it might be harder to explain that at over 50 Brian looked better than he had at 35._ _The family, Justin had commented, would just laugh off Brian’s usual tongue-in-cheek recommendations that the other change their diets. He insisted – correctly in part - that it was all this ‘really strict diet’ they had gone on while living in New York that kept them so young. The others would roll their eyes and snidely comment on plastic surgery addictions and collagen injections, ignoring their protestations as plates of useless food were passed to them. Justin smiled up at him, eyes opening a bit, while saying “How about this? I’ll tell them the complete truth. As soon as the first hint of surgical makeovers is brought up I’ll just say: ‘No really guys, its’ time for the truth. I got turned into a vampire years back. You know when you all thought I was a heroin addict back in my 20s? It was really blood I was addicted to – and then I turned Brian. So he’s no longer buying anyone drinks unless they know we’ll take it back in trade.’ Can you imagine their faces?”  Justin smiled brightly up at him, face flushed from recent feeding, then crushed out the cigarette and moved the ashtray back. Brian had licked and then bit Justin’s lower lip, tasting blood, and the conversation stopped._

+++++++++++

Brian looked searchingly at the old picture he was holding, The Last Christmas, was how he thought of that week. Everyone was still alive and no one really resented them too much for their secrecy or absence from important events. Michael had whined, but it was more a habit than actual complaints. Mikey and the Professor were still the happy couple, and their lives were too full for him to miss Brian much. Debbie and Jennifer both made more than a few pointed comments about them not inviting them to Europe or coming home more often. But Emmett and the girls had been just as absent, so the remarks about more frequent visits were evenly distributed amongst them all. Just a few years later, after too many important events all in the impossibly hours of daytime –which everyone else managed to be present – the tolerant disapproval would change to disdain. They wouldn’t be asked or welcomed back again. Soon, after this picture was taken, phone calls were ignored, messages unreturned.

This photo though, was perfect. The family was at Deb’s, leaning over and onto each other to fit everyone on or near the couch: Michael, with definite wrinkles around his eyes, but smiling with boyish optimism from under graying hair and Ben, very tired looking, but still in good health; a strangely mature Hunter next to them; Deb and Carl – who would die of diabetic complications a year later – were there next to Jennifer and Tucker; Ted and his partner happy but _not_ aging well; Emmett who had gotten all the plastic surgery Brain claimed to receive looked very well maintained; Mel and Lindsay were leaning into each other happy to have the family together.

 In this precious picture, sitting on the dusty floor with cheerful indifference to the expensive clothes Brian had made him wear, was a 22 year old Gus. Gus had still been in his first year at the Academy of Art in San Francisco. His _third_ attempt to complete a _first_ year in college. He couldn’t seem to let a semester pass without escaping classes for weeks when he would just show up on Brian and Justin’s doorstep. He’d surprised them by climbing out of cabs and knocking on the door twice when they lived in Edinburgh, and then called them from NYC asking to be picked up from the airport because he didn’t have the address to their place upstate and didn’t know if there was an airport closer to their house. They had laughed for awhile about that one, but been relieved that they had hours to make the house they were living at – Wyn’s house – look normal.  Each time, Gus arrived claiming boredom, heartbreak or indecision about his major; he’d go home to failed classes and leave the academic world till Lindsay would nag him into a new college. 

That year though, Gus had come back from San Fran for the holidays surprising them all with his future-husband, Garret. In this picture there was only the subtle suggestion the two young men sitting on the floor were going to ever get married. Gus and Brain were barely ten minutes out of a shared joint and conversation where Gus had told him – after complimenting his latest supposed facelift - with determined nonchalance – _“We’re just friends. We live together but we’re not together. Not really – I mean, we just both needed a place to live and rent is fucking expensive.  But I don’t know if we can deal with living together and being a couple.  I mean I’m out almost every night and he’s so serious about school and proving to his stupid fucking family that he’s not a reject. He only came because he isn’t exactly welcome at home in Utah anymore… so I told him to come here with me and join the family. That’s it, Dad, so just drop it.”_  That was one of the last time he’d called Brian ‘Dad’. Brian, lips curled in to hide his smile, had not pointed out that Gus didn’t need a roommate since he didn’t pay his own rent or that Lindsay had told him the boys had been upstairs locked in the bathroom for 25 minutes together before Brian arrived. It was clear the two were falling in love. They would live together, break-up,  make-up, fight and see other people while being ‘just friends’ for almost 15 years before they decided to, as Gus had self-mockingly said, “ _I’m going to stop fucking around and marry him before he decides he’s had enough. I realized he’s all I really need now – maybe he always was. Besides, I’m starting to look too old for the parties, you know? ”_

After that conversation, Brian had stared at himself in a mirror, a recent picture of Gus in his hand, for a long time. No, Brian didn’t know. Brian looked younger than his 37 year old son. Despite over a decade of avoiding important family events that earned Justin and Brian sarcastic comments, angry tirades and the disdain of the whole family, Brian knew Gus and Garrett’s wedding would be the final straw.  It wasn’t even a week after he called to say they were getting married that he called again with a wedding date and a heartfelt request that Brian and Justin please come as soon as they could – Gus pointed out – with none of the ire everyone else employed on the subject – that his absentee dads hadn’t seen there only son for years, that he missed them, that Garrett wanted to know them better, that Mel’s death the year before had left Lindsay floundering and she needed him. When Brian had listened and then began to make yet another excuse – Justin’s health this time – Gus had interrupted. He could still hear the pain-fueled anger in Gus’ voice. Brian had let him rant without interrupting. He didn’t think his son deserved to hear lies, and the truth was impossible.

 ‘ _What do you mean, you CAN’T come home Brian?_ ’ Gus, three years shy of 40 with wrinkles his father would never have, had demanded loudly. “ _What the fuck is wrong with you? And I don’t mean your so-called health problems. Why the fuck do you send shit here? I don’t need your money either by the way; I have a job, you know. And Anna has never even met Justin – she doesn’t know why her mom’s freak of a brother still sends her checks like she’s a kid. The girl is in college and still has never even seen him. It just freaks her out! Neither of you actually want to ever SEE us or really know us so keep your stupid, guilt assuaging gifts... You have been able to travel EVERYWHERE and you can’t come HERE for one fucking day?!  Mom said after Molly’s funeral to just let it go, but I still hoped. I fucking stood up for you and I lied – I LIED for JUSTIN -  to Molly’s kid about why Justin wasn’t taking her in – why she had to live with fucking second cousins! Why he couldn’t leave the sunny shore of Thailand to bury his own sister. And then Momma died and you were so fucking sorry – but not enough to actually show up for your family. You know even stupid Uncle Mikey knew better? He warned me not to ask you to come. He said this would happen because you didn’t come when Ben got sick, or Ted died, and Justin wouldn’t fucking bother going to see his mom that whole time in the hospital, or his own God damned sister – she fucking died and her kid goes to live with people she’s met once! And Justin on a fucking beach working on his tan!? And I have to try and explain to those assholes taking that poor kid why he’s sending so much fucking money but can’t come see Anna for one day! His dead sister’s only kid!  And you, you two fucking assholes sending us your fucking souvenirs and stupid clothes from all the god damned places you go – your arthritis and health are too bad to come here, but OSLO! You can go to fucking OSLO!  I HATE you. I – I – I wish I didn’t know who you were. I wish it had just been my mothers and me. You have done this my whole fucking life! Years, Brian, years – graduation, Debbie, Ben, Ted, Aunt Molly, Grandma Jen all dead and you – off doing what the fuck ever!  Well...just fuck you. Fuck you!”_  Gus had hung up, and not called back. Brian couldn’t bring himself to call. Justin had tried many times, leaving messages with secretaries for weeks. Brian was in his late 60s, Justin had said, surely Gus should understand he’s feeling his age more now. He left messages begging Gus to try and understand, to not blame Brian. He stuck by lies they’d recycled for years about reoccurring cancers, drug addictions and weather problems, swearing that they both loved him – they loved everyone back home. Gus had never called. Garrett eventually did – almost three months (Or 83 unanswered messages) later.  Justin had taken the call, but Brian could overhear what was said from down the hall.

“ _Justin – this is Garrett. Look, Gus doesn’t know I’m calling but I need to tell you both something. I don’t care what’s going on with you and Brian. I don’t know you, either of you, which is fucking ridiculous since I’ve been with Gus for 15 years and you claim to be his fathers. I don’t know what your fucking issue is, but this is just enough. You have got to stop and you have to tell Brian to stop this shit too. Do you know that when we bought a house we got extra rooms because Gus wouldn’t throw out any of the shit Brian sent him? Because it’s all he has had from Brian for decades… Justin, stop. Both of you just stop calling and stop sending things. Please leave us alone-  for Gus’ sake. And please, don’t send a fucking wedding gift, or card, or do anything. Give him a fucking chance to get over all this. You know he won’t have kids? I wanted to, a lot, and he fucking won’t even think about it because he thinks he’s just going to fuck up his kids like you two assholes did to him. So stop fucking calling me like I’ll take your side or hear you out. I am blocking your number and email and everything. If you ever have something to say – fucking say it his face!”_  

It had been one of their worst times. Neither of them was handling it well, and neither reached out for the other. Brian didn’t want to put any more shit on Justin’s shoulders  and Justin was as hurt as Brian, especially hearing about Anna – Molly’s kid – wondering why some ‘freak’ sent her gifts. It was the first time in almost 30 years – since Brian had found out what Justin had become at Wyn’s hands – in which they were apart and they didn’t easily find their way back.  They grieved for the lost time and for everything they would miss. Years passed. More people died; sometimes it seemed like everyone died. Except them. And Wyn, but Wyn didn’t seem to enjoy their company the way he used to. Wyn came from a time where death, even of family, was just accepted and normal. He didn’t understand why they weren’t recovering or why they took it out on each other. Wyn told them separately, since even he couldn’t’ get them in a room together, that they were both very stupid and it was a good thing they would have eternity to learn how to deal with life because that was clearly how long they would take.

 

 Then, one day, Brian realized that his son was _old_. Gus, who he kept an eye on, had suffered a heart attack and was in the hospital. And one night, traveling to visit his sick husband, Garret had died in an accident. Gus was alone. Not really, Brian knew, oddly the Taylors –starting with Jennifer so many years ago – had adopted the Kinney’s lost boys. Molly’s daughter, Anna, and Gus were close friends. Anna and her husband and kids visited Gus, helped him with treatment. Anna held Gus’ hand when he learned, months later, that he had lung cancer on top of liver disease. He went through initial treatment and then Gus went home with Anna to Cleveland.  Brian had been watching Gus’ illness progress; his son had fallen liver first into alcoholism when Garrett died and he couldn’t be made to care about his cancer either. 

 

Finally Brian sought out Justin and found him the first place he looked. Justin had spent the past few years with the man whose lust for Justin had started them down this path: Wyn. In his house in Ithaca, the two had been sitting in the library and talking about a recent trip to Scotland when Brian walked in without knocking. Brian told them, coolly, what he meant to do. Gus would not die hating his father. He would not die wondering why he had been abandoned. They had nodded, clearly disapproving but not willing to speak against the idea. They both remarked with distaste at the idea of Brian turning Gus, because he was his son. He had actually forgotten, until they reminded him, that the initial bloodlust after turning was almost always sexual. But his son was dying and surely he wouldn’t ever react that way to his own child. They reminded him, in quiet voices, about the days of intense neediness and desperation for contact between maker and protégée that was overwhelming enough that you wouldn’t care what else happened so long as you weren’t interrupted. They had both offered: Wyn with vague indifference and Justin with a disturbed frown that clearly said he hoped to not have to follow through on his offer. They discussed it, Wyn as if it were the weather; Justin with deeply pained eyes.  Brian was relieved to have an alternative and he trusted Wyn. They agreed he would call him (he made a point of ignoring Justin at that moment) when Gus was close to dying. And… if he couldn’t come, then he would do it and trust that since it was his son it would be different. He hadn’t wanted Gus to get too suffer any longer and Gus wasn’t really following treatment. But Brian had hoped, fervently, that Gus would recover emotionally from Garrett’s death and decide to follow his doctor’s advice, then this could all wait for years.

Then, Gus had slipped one night and hit his head on the bathroom counter. He was too drunk to realize he should go tell Anna or needed stitches. He just wrapped a towel carelessly around his head covering the wound, finished his whisky, and went to bed. The blood flow was unable to clot due to the anticoagulants he had taken since his heart attack and Gus had died, never knowing why Brian and Justin had disappeared from his life.

Brian felt Justin’s hands on him, gently taking the picture away and pulling him out of his memories. Brian looked at his lover; Justin was crying, bloody tears tracking his face. It was funny that bloody tears no longer surprised him. It was far less funny that Justin’s blood no longer tempted him, that Justin frozen at a beautifully perfect and unbreakable 24 was no longer tempting either, that life seemed to sad for desire or lust. 

“Brian I… understand. I loved him as a son, too. I would have done anything to save him. ”

“I know. I know you did. I shouldn’t have waited; I should have just taken him and figured it out later. I see him as a baby, you know, and when he was all awkward as a teenager and then he was so fucking beautiful and irrational in his twenties. Always skipping out on college, flunking classes, dropping out…remember him calling from New York – and we were in Ithaca? And he wanted to drive up? And that Christmas -” He nodded to the photo in Justin’s hands, “– that was when we met Garrett. And I knew how happy they would be – if he would just let them be happy. It was like watching us –and then their wedding. I should have just gone. We should have found some way. And now, it’s over. And he’s gone. They are all fucking gone.”

“Come on. “ Justin put the picture back on the mantle. He stood on tip-toe and kissed, open-mouthed, Brian’s crimson tears away. “It’s getting light out. Come to bed with me. Let’s sleep the daylight away like we used to. And if that doesn’t help, we can fuck the daylight away.” He offered Brian a sad attempt at a smile; Brian took his hand and they moved slowly to their heavily curtained room.

They pulled off their own clothes, crawled into bed, both taking comfort in human-like slowness, and held each other.

Brian’s last thought before sleep was that it was odd that their reunion, after so many years of cold distance, brought no make-up sex with it… but maybe that only happens the first 100 times you make-up. 

  


	2. Remembered Years

He remembered…

**_++++++++++_ **

_It was the 2 days before Christmas and Gus would be flying in from San Francisco early on Christmas Eve.  They had skipped the pre-Christmas get-togethers, claiming jetlag from a long flight from Prague, and spent the day at Britin. That night, they went out for a ‘drink’ and quickly selected two young men to join them at the loft. After they were done, their ‘drinks’ for the evening long since sent home in cabs, the two had still been tangled together in bed.  Brian had been taunting Justin about how one of the young men they had picked up had commented that he thought he recognized Justin from college and asked if he had been in his Inorganic Chem class last semester at CMU._

_Justin had deadpanned, “I’m too old for college. I’m turning 40 this year.”_

_Everyone, especially Brian, had laughed at that._ _Once alone they made various suggestions about what they were going to say this time to explain their unchanging faces to the family. It had been almost 5 years since everyone had gathered together. Gus had been off to college, to three different schools in three different states over the past few years; Mel and Lindsay had moved from Toronto to Vancouver after Gus left and hadn’t been able to visit in years; Ted had accepted a cushy job in Colorado almost 7 years ago, he and Blaine lived near Aspen; Emmett had met a flight attendant on vacation to Hawaii and stayed there with him – he’d been improving his tan for almost a decade._

_Only Michael, Ben, Debbie and Carl were still in the Pitts, but now, after several failed attempts at a ‘family’ reunion, everyone was going to be together for Christmas. Everyone was going to have aged except them._

_Brian had rolled away from Justin sat up and lit a cigarette. He smoked while considering how well orchestrated the evening had been. The men they had brought home had both had attractively dark skin; that was why Brian had wanted them. He knew the contrast of Justin’s skin against theirs would be particularly hot. Justin had looked glowingly white– like a marble statue of a sex god brought to life – moving between them. Brian looking appraisingly at his reclining lover and decided that he was even more beautiful than he had been in his youth, but maybe it was unfair to compare a younger Justin with the beloved man lying peacefully next to him._

_Justin, eyes still closed, accused him of being a Bogart and grabbed the cigarette unerringly without looking. They had both laughed when Brian pointed out that Justin still looked like he should have his ID checked before being given a cigarette, even if he was supposed to be nearing 40. Justin pointed out that it might be harder to explain that at over 50 Brian looked better than he had at 35._

_The family, Justin had commented, would just laugh off Brian’s usual tongue-in-cheek recommendations that the other change their diets. He insisted – correctly in part - that it was all this ‘really strict diet’ they had gone on while living in New York that kept them so young. The others would roll their eyes and snidely comment on plastic surgery addictions and collagen injections, ignoring their protestations as plates of useless food were passed to them._

_Justin smiled up at him, eyes opening a bit, while saying “How about this? I’ll tell them the complete truth. As soon as the first hint of surgical makeovers is brought up I’ll just say: ‘No really guys, its’ time for the truth. I got turned into a vampire years ago. You know when you all thought I was a smack addict back in my 20s? It was really blood I was addicted to – and then I turned Brian. So he’s no longer buying anyone drinks unless they know we’ll take it back in trade.’ Can you imagine their faces?”  Justin smiled brightly up at him, face flushed from recent feeding, then crushed out the cigarette and moved the ashtray back. Brian had licked and then bit Justin’s lower lip, tasting blood, and the conversation stopped._

+++++++++++

Brian looked searchingly at the old picture he was holding, The Last Christmas, was how he thought of that week. Everyone was still alive and no one really resented them too much for their secrecy or absence from important events. Michael had whined, but that was just an old habit now. Mikey and the Professor were still the happy couple, and their lives were too full for him to miss Brian much. Debbie and Jennifer both made more than a few pointed comments about them not inviting them to Europe or coming home more often. But Emmett and the girls had been just as absent, so the remarks about more frequent visits were evenly distributed amongst them all. Just a few years later, after too many important events all in the impossibly hours of daytime –which everyone else managed to be present – the tolerant disapproval would change to disdain. They wouldn’t be asked or welcomed back again. Soon, after this picture was taken, phone calls were ignored, messages unreturned.

This photo though, was perfect. The family was at Deb’s, leaning over and onto each other to fit everyone on or near the couch: Michael, with definite wrinkles around his eyes, but smiling with boyish optimism from under graying hair and Ben, very tired looking, but still in good health; a strangely mature Hunter next to them; Deb and Carl – who would die of diabetic complications a year later – were there next to Jennifer and Tucker; Ted and his partner happy but _not_ aging well; Emmett who had gotten all the plastic surgery Brain claimed to receive looked very well maintained; Mel and Lindsay were leaning into each other happy to have the family together.

 In this precious picture, sitting on the dusty floor with cheerful indifference to the expensive clothes Brian had made him wear, was a 22 year old Gus. Gus had still been in his first year at the Academy of Art in San Francisco. His _third_ attempt to complete a _first_ year in college. He couldn’t seem to let a semester pass without escaping classes for weeks when he would just show up on Brian and Justin’s doorstep. He’d surprised them by climbing out of cabs and knocking on the door twice when they lived in Edinburgh, and then called them from NYC asking to be picked up from the airport because he didn’t have the address to their place upstate and didn’t know if there was an airport closer to their house. They had laughed for awhile about that one, but been relieved that they had hours to make the house they were living at – Wyn’s house – look normal.  Each time, Gus arrived claiming boredom, heartbreak or indecision about his major; he’d go home to failed classes and leave the academic world till Lindsay would nag him into a new college. 

That year though, Gus had come back from San Fran for the holidays surprising them all with his future-husband, Garret. In this picture there was only the subtle suggestion the two young men sitting on the floor were going to ever get married. Gus and Brain were barely ten minutes out of a shared joint and conversation where Gus had told him – after complimenting his latest supposed facelift - with determined nonchalance – _“We’re just friends. We live together but we’re not together. Not really – I mean, we just both needed a place to live and rent is fucking expensive.  But I don’t know if we can deal with living together and being a couple.  I mean I’m out almost every night and he’s so serious about school and proving to his stupid fucking family that he’s not a reject. He only came because he isn’t exactly welcome at home in Utah anymore… so I told him to come here with me and join the family. That’s it, Dad, so just drop it.”_  

That was one of the last time he’d called Brian ‘Dad’. Brian, lips curled in to hide his smile, had not pointed out that Gus didn’t need a roommate since he didn’t pay his own rent or that Lindsay had told him the boys had been upstairs locked in the bathroom for 25 minutes together before Brian arrived. It was clear the two were falling in love. They would live together, break-up,  make-up, fight and see other people while being ‘just friends’ for almost 15 years before they decided to, as Gus had self-mockingly said, “ _I’m going to stop fucking around and marry him before he decides he’s had enough. I realized he’s all I really need now – maybe he always was. Besides, I’m starting to look too old for the parties, you know? ”_

After that conversation, Brian had stared at himself in a mirror, a recent picture of Gus in his hand, for a long time. No, Brian didn’t know. Brian looked younger than his 37 year old son. Despite over a decade of avoiding important family events that earned Justin and Brian sarcastic comments, angry tirades and the disdain of the whole family, Brian knew Gus and Garrett’s wedding would be the final straw.  

It wasn’t even a week after he called to say they were getting married that he called again with a wedding date and a heartfelt request that Brian and Justin please come as soon as they could – Gus pointed out – with none of the ire everyone else employed on the subject – that his absentee dads hadn’t seen there only son for years, that he missed them, that Garrett wanted to know them better, that Mel’s death the year before had left Lindsay floundering and she needed him. When Brian had listened and then began to make yet another excuse – Justin’s health this time – Gus had interrupted. He could still hear the pain-fueled anger in Gus’ voice. Brian had let him rant without interrupting. He didn’t think his son deserved to hear lies, and the truth was impossible.

 ‘ _What do you mean, you CAN’T come home Brian?_ ’ Gus, three years shy of 40 with wrinkles his father would never have, had demanded loudly. “ _What the fuck is wrong with you? And I don’t mean your so-called health problems. Why the fuck do you send shit here? I don’t need your money either by the way; I have a job, you know. And Anna has never even met Justin – she doesn’t know why her mom’s freak of a brother still sends her checks like she’s a kid. The girl is in college and still has never even seen him. It just freaks her out! Neither of you actually want to ever SEE us or really know us so keep your stupid, guilt assuaging gifts... You have been able to travel EVERYWHERE and you can’t come HERE for one fucking day?!  Mom said after Molly’s funeral to just let it go, but I still hoped. I fucking stood up for you and I lied – I LIED for JUSTIN -  to Molly’s kid about why Justin wasn’t taking her in – why she had to live with fucking second cousins! Why he couldn’t leave the sunny shore of Thailand to bury his own sister. And then Momma died and you were so fucking sorry – but not enough to actually show up for your family. You know even stupid Uncle Mikey knew better? He warned me not to ask you to come. He said this would happen because you didn’t come when Ben got sick, or Ted died, and Justin wouldn’t fucking bother going to see his mom that whole time in the hospital, or his own God damned sister – she fucking died and her kid goes to live with people she’s met once! And Justin on a fucking beach working on his tan!? And I have to try and explain to those assholes taking that poor kid why he’s sending so much fucking money but can’t come see Anna for one day! His dead sister’s only kid!  And you, you two fucking assholes sending us your fucking souvenirs and stupid clothes from all the god damned places you go – your arthritis and health are too bad to come here, but OSLO! You can go to fucking OSLO!  I HATE you. I – I – I wish I didn’t know who you were. I wish it had just been my mothers and me. You have done this my whole fucking life! Years, Brian, years – graduation, Debbie, Ben, Ted, Aunt Molly, Grandma Jen all dead and you – off doing what the fuck ever!  Well...just fuck you. Fuck you!”_  

 

Gus had hung up, and not called back. Brian couldn’t bring himself to call. Justin had tried many times, leaving messages with secretaries for weeks. Brian was in his late 60s, Justin had said, surely Gus should understand he’s feeling his age more now. He left messages begging Gus to try and understand, to not blame Brian. He stuck by lies they’d recycled for years about reoccurring cancers, drug addictions and weather problems, swearing that they both loved him – they loved everyone back home. Gus had never called. Garrett eventually did – almost three months (Or 83 unanswered messages) later.  Justin had taken the call, but Brian could overhear what was said from down the hall.

“ _Justin – this is Garrett. Look, Gus doesn’t know I’m calling but I need to tell you both something. I don’t care what’s going on with you and Brian. I don’t know you, either of you, which is fucking ridiculous since I’ve been with Gus for 15 years and you claim to be his fathers. I don’t know what your fucking issue is, but this is just enough. You have got to stop and you have to tell Brian to stop this shit too. Do you know that when we bought a house we got extra rooms because Gus wouldn’t throw out any of the shit Brian sent him? Because it’s all he has had from Brian for decades… Justin, stop. Both of you just stop calling and stop sending things. Please leave us alone- for Gus’ sake. And please, don’t send a fucking wedding gift, or card, or do anything. Give him a fucking chance to get over all this. You know he won’t have kids? I wanted a family – a big family -, and he fucking won’t even think about it because he thinks he’s just going to fuck up his kids like you two assholes did to him. So stop fucking calling me like I’ll take your side or hear you out. I am blocking your number and email and everything. If you ever have something to say – fucking say it his face!”_   

 It had been one of their worst times. Neither of them was handling it well, and neither reached out for the other. Brian didn’t want to put any more shit on Justin’s shoulders  and Justin was as hurt as Brian, especially hearing about Anna – Molly’s kid – wondering why some ‘freak’ sent her gifts. It was the first time in almost 30 years – since Brian had found out what Justin had become at Wyn’s hands – in which they were apart and they didn’t easily find their way back.  They grieved for the lost time and for everything they would miss. Years passed. More people died; sometimes it seemed like everyone died. Except them. And Wyn, but Wyn didn’t seem to enjoy their company the way he used to. Wyn came from a time where death, even of family, was just accepted and normal. He didn’t understand why they weren’t recovering or why they took it out on each other. Wyn told them separately, since even he couldn’t get them in a room together, that they were both very stupid and it was a good thing they would have eternity to learn how to deal with life because that was clearly how long they would take.

 

 Then, one day, Brian realized that his son was _old_. Gus, who he kept an eye on, had suffered a heart attack and was in the hospital. And one night, traveling to visit his sick husband, Garret had died in an accident. Gus was alone. Not really, Brian knew, oddly the Taylors –starting with Jennifer so many years ago – had adopted the Kinney’s lost boys. Molly’s daughter, Anna, and Gus were close friends. Anna and her husband and kids visited Gus, helped him with treatment. Anna held Gus’ hand when he learned, months later, that he had lung cancer on top of liver disease. He went through initial treatment and then Gus went home with Anna to Cleveland.  Brian had been watching Gus’ illness progress; his son had fallen liver first into alcoholism when Garrett died and he couldn’t be made to care about his cancer either. 

 

Finally Brian sought out Justin and found him the first place he looked. Justin had spent the past few years with the man whose lust for Justin had started them down this path: Wyn. In his house in Ithaca, the two had been sitting in the library and talking about a recent trip to Scotland when Brian walked in without knocking. Brian told them, coolly, what he meant to do. Gus would not die hating his father. He would not die wondering why he had been abandoned. They had nodded, clearly disapproving but not willing to speak against the idea. They both had stayed silent while he spoke, but their faces held marked  distaste at the idea of Brian turning Gus, because he was his son. He had actually forgotten, until they reminded him, that the initial bloodlust after turning was almost always sexual. But his son was dying and surely he wouldn’t ever react that way to his own child. They reminded him, in quiet voices, about the days of intense neediness and desperation for contact between maker and protégée that was overwhelming enough that you wouldn’t care what else happened so long as you weren’t interrupted. They had both offered: Wyn with vague indifference and Justin with a disturbed frown that clearly said he hoped to not have to follow through on his offer. They discussed it, Wyn as if it were the weather; Justin with deeply pained eyes.  Brian was relieved to have an alternative and he trusted Wyn. They agreed he would call him (he made a point of ignoring Justin at that moment) when Gus was close to dying. And… if he couldn’t come, then he would do it and trust that since it was his son it would be different. He hadn’t wanted Gus to get too suffer any longer and Gus wasn’t really following treatment. But Brian had hoped, fervently, that Gus would recover emotionally from Garrett’s death and decide to follow his doctor’s advice, then this could all wait for years.

Then, Gus had slipped one night and hit his head on the bathroom counter. He was too drunk to realize he should go tell Anna or that he needed stitches. He just wrapped a towel carelessly around his head covering the wound, finished his whisky, and went to bed. The blood flow was unable to clot due to the anticoagulants he had taken since his heart attack and Gus had died, never knowing why Brian and Justin had disappeared from his life.

Brian felt Justin’s hands on him, gently taking the picture away and pulling him out of his memories. Brian looked at his lover; Justin was crying, bloody tears tracking his face. It was funny that bloody tears no longer surprised him. It was far less funny that Justin’s blood no longer tempted him, that Justin frozen at a beautifully perfect and unbreakable 24 was no longer tempting either, that life seemed to sad for desire or lust. 

“Brian I… understand. I loved him as a son, too. I would have done anything to save him. ”

“I know. I know you did. I shouldn’t have waited; I should have just taken him and figured it out later. I still see him as a baby, , and an awkward teenager and then he was so fucking beautiful and irrational in his twenties. Always skipping out on college, flunking classes, dropping out…remember him calling from New York – and we were in Ithaca? And he wanted to drive up? And that Christmas -” He nodded to the photo in Justin’s hands, “– that was when we met Garrett. And I knew how happy they would be – if he would just let them be happy. It was like watching us –and then their wedding. I should have just gone. We should have found some way. And now, it’s over. And he’s gone. They are all fucking gone.”

“Come on. “ Justin put the picture back on the mantle. He stood on tip-toe and kissed, open-mouthed, Brian’s crimson tears away. “It’s getting light out. Come to bed with me. Let’s sleep the daylight away like we used to. And if that doesn’t help, we can fuck the daylight away.” He offered Brian a sad attempt at a smile; Brian took his hand and they moved slowly to their heavily curtained room.

They pulled off their own clothes, crawled into bed, both taking comfort in human-like slowness, and held each other.

Brian’s last thought before sleep was that it was odd that their reunion, after so many years of cold distance, brought no make-up sex with it… but maybe that only happens the first 100 times you make-up. 


End file.
